


PEN15

by zzzzzzzo



Series: penis is a funny word [1]
Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Cute Kids, Fluff, Humanstuck, M/M, Meddling Kids, Young, sorry i love kids okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 09:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5535611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zzzzzzzo/pseuds/zzzzzzzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Wanna join the pen fifteen club?”<br/>Those were the first words John Egbert ever said to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	PEN15

**Author's Note:**

  * For [felineFan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/felineFan/gifts).



> okay i can explain  
> i was texting [quinn](http://felinefan.tumblr.com/) and they tried to command me to write johnkat porn, but that elusive autocorrect was hard at work, and they instead said "WRITE JOHNKAT PEN" and then this happened  
> uh... yeah  
> (also this totally counts as your christmas present quinn :D)  
> happy holidays guys! enjoy some pure silliness

“Wanna join the pen fifteen club?”

Those were the first words John Egbert ever said to you.

The two of you were eight years old. Third grade. It was quite a ways a way into the school year, and you had just moved there recently. A weird transfer student with no friends, who broke at least three pencils a week in frustration. You had most certainly never, once in your short weeks there, spoken to John Egbert, bucktoothed leader of the little meaningless cliques of that time.

And yet there he was, approaching you with a broad grin during recess. You had been drawing a crab, as you were inside today due to rain. He looked giant, his standing form leaning over your cross-legged one. Very, very intimidating.

Your first instinct was to say no. As lonely as you were, you had always had a bad attitude towards life in general, and had trouble accepting any kind of olive branch. But.. Well, you had no one else, and he seemed pretty nice. Not like some douches in your grade, at least.

“Um... What's that?” You wrinkled your nose in regret immediately after the fact. Great, then you sounded even more like some outcast living under a rock.

“It's this super cool club, but it's kinda secret, so I can only tell you after you join.”

“That's dumb.”

“Yeah, it is. Wanna join?”

“...Heck yeah.”

John's grin had widened, and you had felt your tiny heart do a little flutter you hadn't understood at the time. Hell, you still don't. “Awesome! All you have to do to join is write pen fifteen on your forehead. Easy, right?” He reminded you of some infomercial spokesperson at the time. His pitch sounded too good to not be practiced.

“I have to write on my forehead?” This is a pretty obvious indicator of a 'secret' club.

“I can do it for you,” John offered, waving his pen around to emphasize his point while completely missing yours. You went with it anyway.

John immediately crouched down and shoved your bangs back. The sudden closeness caught you off guard. While he was absorbed in his task, you were left with nothing to look at except his too near face, his teeth biting his lower lip in concentration. You could feel his breath on your face. It made you nervous, with a squirming stomach as if it was full of grubs, like that one time you ate a lot of dirt and got super sick. Wow, okay. By the time you shook off that horrible memory, John had already finished writing on you, and pulled back with a smile too big for his face.

“Sweet. You're in, dude!” He looked like he was biting back a laugh. In retrospect, he was extremely obvious. Little you was an idiot.

“Right. Okay. So then, what _does_ the club do? Now that I'm in.”

“Oh, you know...” John had looked caught off guard. Apparently he had not thought this far ahead. “...Sssstuff.”

“..Riiiiight.” By then you were beginning to regret this decision.

Recess ended just then, and John had jumped up with a hugely relieved look on his face. _Saved by the bell._ “Welp, gotta go!” He darted back to his desk.

You rolled your eyes and went back to your own. Your steps had slowed when you heard the giggles, when you saw kids pointing from the corner of your eye. You tried your hardest to ignore it, but it was not an easy feat for a very self conscious little kid.

When your teacher had stepped up to begin the next lesson, her eyes had immediately settled on you. Her eyes narrowed into the expression that always indicated someone was about to be told off. Oh no.

“Karkat, that is not funny. Go wash your face this instant. I will not have this inappropriate behavior in my class.”

You stared at her, completely stumped. What on earth? “But Mrs.-

“Now!”

That was it then. You slumped, feet dragging as you hurried out of the room. The giggles of your classmates followed you out like a salvo. Just as the room left your view, you thought you caught a glimpse of the beginnings of repentance on John's face. Then, that may be your current view of him lending more kindness than was existing.

You were alone when you reached the bathroom, and you took some time to squint at yourself in the mirror. It wasn't easy to see the writing on your dark complexion, especially when you were tiptoeing and straining to even see the mirror at all.

PEN15.

You didn't get it. What, were clubs not allowed or something? How were you supposed to know? She could have at least given you some kind of warning, or John could have told you to cover it up, or-

Wait.

Wait just a goshdarned second, that sure looked a whole lot like another word. Did he... There was no way, right? _Did he do that on purpose?_

Details suddenly clicked in your head. The giggling. The too-niceness. The lack of actual club activities.

“Oh, this jerkshit.” You whispered. It gave you a sense of liberation, to call him the worse slur you knew. One you had never said aloud before.

You had then proceed to wash your face while crying with frustration, then linger in the bathroom for several more minutes, anxiety rooting you to the spot. You couldn't face going back to the classroom. You threw up from the stress and went home early and refused to talk to John for the rest of the year, no matter what.

At the end of the year, your dad got posted someplace else, and you had to move again. When John found out, he dragged you away to talk, apologized in barely legible speak, English and Korean mixing and all very slurred by tears. _He_ puked from the stress, and you figured you two were even, and by that time you had practically forgotten why you hated him anyway. You hugged him and told him it was okay, and the two of you hung out constantly for the last two days before you moved.

The day before you left, when his dad came to pick him up, you handed John a carefully folded piece of paper.  
“What's this?”

“My new address.” You looked at him very seriously. “You _have_ to write me, alright?”

“Can't we just email-”

_“Email is for the weak.”_

“Ummm... Okay. I promise.” He crossed his heart, and you glanced down at his flipflopped feet to make sure he wasn't crossing his toes. He wasn't.

And so the two of you became penpals. Or, as John called it to your outrage and amusement both, 'PEN15 Pals!'

\---

When he proposes to you, years and tears and fears, and things that don't rhyme, too, later, you agree only one one condition. So if you ever see a wedding photo floating around where one of the grooms has PEN15 written on his forehead, and the other appears to be cracking the fuck up, there's why. You're welcome.


End file.
